The old lady dropped her bag and all her shit rolled out. Stuff so old, I didn’t even know what it was. Pills, make-up, a hairdryer maybe?
Three people jumped at her pills. A woman nearly threw a child off her lap. They went prostate on the ground, and I was sitting further away, so beyond the range of obligation. But still, I was the only one not coming over.
You know, It’s not like I’ve never picked up something someone dropped.
Maybe this is an example of the inherent goodness of the human race, but to me it can feel like conditioning. That lingering belief that maybe if they pick up enough fallen make-up for enough old ladies, they’ll get into heaven.
Then again, someone’s got to pick up the pills, I guess. What I’m saying is, everyone’s clambering for the easy jobs, the fast-pass to redemption.
But I guess I’m still an asshole because I’m the one sitting down.